


shutter speed

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [47]
Category: Haikyuu!!, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, M/M, Model AU, pure aesthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 03:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: “Ryouta-kun? The camera loves him,” he admits.“Looks like he loves it right back,” Osamu remarks.





	shutter speed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 6: Remixes | originally posted [here](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24968.html?thread=16115592#cmt16115592) | remix of [this art](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10033170#cmt10033170)

It is Osamu, of course, who notices Kise Ryouta first, because it is Osamu who knows more than anyone else about what gets to Atsumu.

“Natural blond, is he?” he asks, glancing over to the next set.

They’re on the sidelines of a shoot, and Osamu’s been waiting for Atsumu, a can of Coke ready in his hand. It’s still cool, fresh from the vending machine just the way Atsumu likes it.

Atsumu smirks and loosens his collar.

“Ryouta-kun? The camera loves him,” he admits.

“Looks like he loves it right back,” Osamu remarks. Atsumu follows his gaze, turns to look at Kise.

It’s not in him to be jealous. Growing up with a twin means he’s used to taking what he wants, and giving, too, and there is simply no point wasting his time on something as trivial as _jealousy_ ; so as he takes in Kise’s long legs in their tapered pants, the cut of the jacket hugging his body and the easy way he drapes himself over a bar stool with a come-hither smile, Atsumu can say, at least, that it is not jealousy he feels.

“He’s younger than we are, you know,” he says. “And new. But already this good.”

“A real professional, huh.”

“ _I’m_ a real professional!”

“Never said you weren’t.”

A production assistant with a clipboard waves to him then, and Atsumu sets down his half-drunk Coke, goes over to where Kise’s getting to his feet. Someone from wardrobe’s peeling off his jacket. Kise stretches his arms overhead, tips his head back and lets out a yawn so soft that Atsumu thinks he must be the only one to hear it.

“Atsumu-san,” he greets him, beaming.

“Please, Ryouta-kun, you don’t have to be so formal,” says Atsumu, leaning to rest an elbow on his shoulder. Kise tilts his head, amusement dancing across parted lips.

The shoot director calls out to them. “Could we get a few shots of you both together? Miya-san, if you would—stay right there, that looks good—”

Atsumu smiles. “Like this?”

He presses flush against Kise, hip to hip, lets the wardrobe boy fuss over his shirt, pop a few more buttons and roll up the sleeves. Kise’s a good height for his arm to stay where it is. He doesn’t shy away, either.

This close, Atsumu can see: Osamu, as usual, was right. If the camera’s glare is a bright kiss on Kise’s cheek, then the arch of Kise’s neck is no accidental gesture, the spark in his half-lidded eyes no trick of the light. This love affair goes both ways. Atsumu’s not jealous, no—

Merely curious, and maybe that’s the more dangerous sentiment, for he’s never been able to help his curiosity.

“Atsumucchi, then,” Kise half-whispers in a low drawl, and Atsumu’s laugh is a breathless thing as the spotlights click on, falling pink across their faces.


End file.
